Lack of a Lady
by Gedia Kacela
Summary: 'The Lord of Rivendell was restless.' Years after Celebrian's departure, Elrond begins to feel the consequences of her absense. (Elrond/Haldir)


Lack of a Lady  
  
Disclaimer: They're not mine. There are probably laws against what I would do if they were.  
  
Author's Notes: For Storm, since she asked for it.  
  
***  
  
The Lord of Rivendell was restless.  
  
It was not the first time he had felt thus. The feeling had begun some time ago and had been slowly growing in the pit of his stomach. By now he was festering with it.  
  
He closed his eyes, his hands clenching into fists at his side. He must retain control. He was Master of Imladris. It was not becoming of him to succumb to weakness such as emotion. He would control himself. This would not overcome him. It would pass.  
  
He inhaled slowly, feeling breath creep into his body, expand his lungs, and then pass out through his flared nostrils.   
  
He was in control.  
  
He noticed that his hands were shaking and immediately gripped at the folds of his robes to prevent the motion. Ai, what was wrong with him?  
  
He knew too well what was wrong, only he did not wish to admit the fact to himself. The problem was the fact that Celebrian had been gone for many years, and he had not touched another woman since that age. He had too long been at a lack for a Lady.  
  
The room seemed filled with her. There on the wall was the tapestry given at the announcement of their marriage. The bed was the same one they had shared over the years of their life.  
  
As he gazed at it, an image flickered across his gray eyes of her lying on the tousled covers, her fair brow streaked with sweat and creased in pain, her eyes pleading with him to heal her. The orcs had been in possession of her for far too long. He had healed the physical wounds she had received, but as for the emotional ones... those she would not let him near.  
  
His throat tightened suddenly, and turning, he left his chambers and descended the stairs, his deep robes trailing behind him on the steps. From there, he went outside, often the only escape he found from his restlessness, from the memories.  
  
But escape fled him now. The feeling still gnawed at his stomach, as present as ever. He stood at the doorway, indecisive for several moments, before retreating into the woods surrounding the Last Homely House.  
  
But there was the spot where she had told him that she was sailing West, where she had kissed him last, touched his cheek. It had been two months since her rescue, but he could still see the fresh wounds lurking in her eyes.  
  
There was the bench where he had given her their first chaste kiss, where they had watched their twins play among the trees.  
  
He closed his eyes again against the onrush of memories and leaned heavily against a tree. He must control this... control himself.  
  
Eyes shut tightly, he let his head rest back against the unrelenting bark of the tree. Lords, he must not let himself pine like this, after something he would not have for perhaps a very long time. She was in Valinor, while he still dwelt in Rivendell, while darkness was drawing nigh.  
  
"I fear," he breathed aloud, "that the world is closing in on our woodland haven."  
  
"It is closing in elsewhere as well, Lord Elrond."  
  
His eyes snapped open and he straightened quickly, turning his head in the direction of the voice. Before him, leaning casually against a tree, was an elf. The name came to him a brief second later. "Haldir of Lorien. You startled me."  
  
He inclined his head slightly. "Forgive me, my Lord. I did not wish to disturb your reverie."  
  
"No... the interruption is welcome." He glanced over the Lorien Elf. The blonde elf was rather different than most of their kind. He was slightly shorter and broader across the shoulders. His face lacked something of the more feminine delicacy of most Elves. Strong muscles coiled thickly beneath the pale skin, giving him more weight to carry.  
  
But for the added bulk, he moved no less swiftly or silently than others, as evidence by his undetected approach. In truth, he had not changed much since the last time Elrond had laid eyes on him. And no doubt, he was still as arrogant as he had been then, a new captain among the marchwardens, practically strutting with his newfound authority.   
  
Elrond had often wondered why the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood had appointed such an elf. But he had soon seen the graceful adeptness of Haldir, the flowing manner in which he moved, the loyalty with which he guarded Lorien's borders. Arrogant he was, but able. Flaws such as that could be overlooked for so skilled a warden.  
  
Haldir's near-constant presence had grown on him during his previous stay in Lorien, and he found it nearly as easy to step back into the same sensation now that the elf had suddenly arrived in Rivendell.  
  
He stepped forward. "But welcome or not, your appearance is... unexpected."  
  
"I hold a message from Lady Galadriel." He returned Elrond's stare for nearly a minute before raising an eyebrow. "I have traveled a long way, my Lord. I desire rest."  
  
Elrond thought he detected a taint to the neutral tone of the marchwarden's tone, but he couldn't be certain. His brow creased for a second before he gestured towards the path. "Of course. Follow me."  
  
As the Elf Lord strode slowly back to Rivendell, Haldir followed closely alongside, the sweeping edges of his cloak brushing against Elrond's robes. He walked as one would with an equal, not as one in the presence of a lord. He had forgotten how little respect he had gained from the guardian, despite all efforts. The only two he revered were Celeborn and Galadriel.  
  
Haldir's soft accent entered his ears. "It is... pleasant here." There was a short pause. "Quaint."  
  
Elrond dealt him a sharp glance, which he seemed not to notice. "Are the trees not to your tastes, Haldir?"  
  
If he caught the warning tone in the elder's voice, he gave no sign or heed. "Nay. They are naught to the Golden Wood." He reached out a hand to trail along the bark of the trees they passed. "The mallyrn are much more fair, more sweet, than these. I should not liken to dwell here."  
  
Elrond's eyes hardened. "None have asked you to remain here any longer than it proves necessary."  
  
"I would decline any such offers."  
  
He resisted the urge to grind his teeth together and instead quickened his pace slightly, desiring only to return to the sanctuary of his rooms and to escape from this arrogant elfling.  
  
Haldir easily matched his stride, continuing the damned conversation. "You have been to Lorien, I know. I remember you and your lady." Elrond gave a grudging nod to the truth of the statement. "I do not know how one could return to such a place after the beauty of Caras Galadhon."  
  
"To each his own."  
  
The Lorien Elf's lip curled slightly as he continued to survey his surroundings. "I suppose this is true," he said. "Though I cannot see how."  
  
This time Elrond gave no reply save for a snort of exasperation and silently raised his eyes to the heavens in thanks that they were now quickly approaching the doors of the haven. Haldir's eyes once again swept over the building in critique. "You founded this place, did you not?"  
  
"Aye, I did."  
  
He nodded slowly. "And what do they call it? The Last Homely House?" Again, he gave a cursory glance. "Fitting."  
  
Elrond bristled and felt the sudden desire to defend his domain course through his veins. It was a strange feeling, one he had not felt before... not in such situations, at least. To feel as if he had to prove himself against a mere marchwarden... it was absurd.  
  
And yet, the sensation refused to leave.  
  
It clung to him like a garment through the halls of Rivendell, to the gathering hall, where he entered. Upon his arrival, the elves seated around the tables, eating and drinking, stood and turned in his direction. "Glorfindel," he called ill humoredly, motioning to the elf and ignoring the rest.  
  
He approached, bending slightly at the waist. "My Lord?"  
  
Elrond gestured to the marchwarden without directly looking at him. "This is Haldir of Lorien. He had traveled far and is in need of rest before returning. Show him to a suitable room."  
  
"My Lord," started Haldir in protest, but the dark-haired elf had already turned and was striding down the hall. His eyes followed him for a few moments and he shook his head at Glorfindel's offer to lead him to his chambers. "That will be unnecessary," he told him shortly, silently following the path that Elrond had taken, his red-lined cloak sweeping around him.  
  
He followed the elf's trail as he might follow prey. In fact, somewhere along the way, the Elf Lord had become his prey. He had, under cover of conversation, taken in the movements of Rivendell's master, noted how he reacted to Haldir's remarks, how his muscles had stiffened as he became increasingly more uncomfortable, how his steeps were long, but steady and paced. He was careful in conversation, guarded in eye contact, and yet still hospitable. There was an assuredness and power that lurked behind his façade. But there was another word that seemed to elude him... reclusive. That was it.  
  
Elrond of Rivendell was reclusive. He had been too long drawing in on himself, alone in his wooded haven with none but his daughter close to him. Certainly Rivendell had many other elven occupants, but Haldir was willing to gamble that none of them were a trusted confidant or companion.  
  
Rare was it that an Elf Lord walked unaccompanied in their lands. Even when seeming solitary, his own Lord and Lady were often guarded by Galadhrim hidden amongst the trees.  
  
But there had been none watching over the Lord of Imladris.  
  
The Lorien Elf paused at a bend in the corridor as the footfalls he had been trailing paused and a door closed quietly on its hinges.   
  
That meant that there would be none watching over him now.  
  
***  
  
Elrond let the door fall closed and crossed the room to the door that led to the balcony outside. There he leaned against the banister on folded arms and allowed his forehead to rest against his crossed forearms. Elbereth... how had the arrogant elfling perturbed him so?  
  
It was naught... just his already strained nerves. But the guardian would rest, deliver his cursed message, and return to Lorien. And Elrond would be glad to see him go.  
  
Glad.  
  
He curled his hand into a fist, his nails digging half-moons into the soft flesh of his palms. She came back to him now, her memory, dancing among his frustrations and obligations. It was only now that he realized that he had not dwelt on the thought of her once while in the company of Lorien's arrogant guardian.  
  
He snorted derisively. Maychance that was because the elfling had not ceased his bragging during his entire time in the Lord's presence. Who would not have been distracted?  
  
By the stars, he was still unable to concentrate! He pushed away from the ledge and swung round to face the door. His eyes fell once again on the bed and his mind once again saw her there. His throat tightened without his realizing it.  
  
A knock at the door disrupted his thoughts. He turned away, staring sightlessly out across the wooded horizon of Rivendell. "Enter!" The door swung open softly. "I hope the petulant Warden found his rooms to his satisfaction, Glorfindel. Though I am certain they are not as fine as those of Lorien."  
  
The voice that answered his was not Glorfindel's, however. It was a smooth drawl, tainted with vanity. "This is true, they are not. However, they are much to my liking, if all of the chambers this homely house offers are such as these." Elrond whirled to face Haldir, who was standing in the center of the room, his hands folded behind him. He cocked his head to the side. "Or does the Peredhil only receive such pleasureful rooms?"  
  
Elrond scowled darkly, striding into the room. "You show much effrontery, Haldir o Lorien."  
  
He raised his chin at the comment. "I have been told by Lord Celeborn that I must watch my tongue."  
  
"And do you?"  
  
"Of course. I do all that my Lord commands. I watch my tongue in my own way."  
  
"Do you watch it lead you into trouble, Marchwarden?"  
  
He smirked. "Only that trouble that it can retrieve itself from." The Half-Elf's brows furrowed at the comment, trying to sort meaning from it, but finally dismissed it with another snort and turned away. Haldir followed him. "I was always under the impression that the Lord of Imladris was said to be patient and tolerant of his guests."  
  
"I give what is shown me," he replied without turning. One hand was raised and pressed against the doorframe leading outside.  
  
"And what have I shown you, Lord Elf?"  
  
"Naught but contempt and dishonour."  
  
"Nay," he breathed. The whisper was accompanied by his hand upon Elrond's shoulder. He shifted away from the elf's touch, but the voice did not cease. "I have felt you no ill will. It is simply that..."   
  
He trailed off, and Elrond turned on him. "What? Speak your mind, Guardian. What say you?"  
  
"You amuse me."  
  
Colour rushed angrily to his cheeks and he took a step nearer the young warrior. "Amuse, Guardian? Amuse?"  
  
"Aye." With a strange smile, Haldir reached for Elrond once again, laying his palm on the lord's upper arm. "You deny yourself what you truly desire."  
  
His own hand leapt up and grasped Haldir by the wrist, holding him fast. "You forget yourself, youngling. Out."  
  
His words only succeeded in increasing the grin on the Marchwarden's face. "You force me leave without a worthy chance to explain my words? If you recall, it was you who requested that I speak my mind. I have only done as you have bidden. Do you so quickly now dismiss me?" For a moment, the elder elf was speechless. He could not believe that the presumptuous creature would dare to turn his own words on him. But before he could speak, he noticed Haldir's smirk growing. "Or do you not wish to release me?"  
  
He noticed that he was still gripping Haldir's wrist and quickly dropped it, stepping backwards. "I bid you leave, Guardian, while my temper is still good. Deliver your message and return to Lorien with all haste." The Silvan Elf shrugged and removed his cloak, laying it across a low bench. Elrond frowned. "What, by Elbereth, are you doing?"  
  
Haldir looked up. "Retrieving your message, my Lord. As you have commanded." His voice took on a sardonic tone, coating the second sentence in sarcasm. Elrond's eyes traveled over the Galadhrim's body without even thinking about the action. Beneath the cloak, it was even more apparent how powerful the elf was. The muscles of his legs roiled visibly beneath the fitted blue-grey leggings with each move he made. Elrond licked his dry lips and finally tore his eyes away, looking instead down at his folded hands.  
  
Haldir reached for his belt and removed a folded parchment from where it had been secured. Then he approached the Lord of Rivendell and extended his hand. "My Lord?"  
  
Elrond's eyes flickered up to him, then down to the piece of parchment lying on the proffered palm. He reached for it, but before he could secure his fingers around the message, Haldir's hand had closed around his. As if touching something hot, Elrond quickly attempted to retract his hand, but it was too late. Haldir's grip was firm and strong.  
  
"Release me," he hissed, his dark eyes flashing.  
  
Haldir's own eyes danced with some emotion that Elrond wished not to name. "And if I do not? Then what shall you do?"  
  
"Do not toy with me, elfling. You forget who you are dealing with."  
  
"On the contrary, my Lord, I do not." He used his hold on Elrond's wrist to draw his prey nearer. "You are Elrond Half-Elven, Lord of Imladris, the elf of the cave. You directed Isildur to cast the One into Mordor. You founded this place as a haven to all, including your family. But you could not protect your own. Lady Celebrian left you for the safety of better refuge. Since then, it is said that the Peredhil has been quite alone in his haven, isolating himself and seeing none but his own children. Your lack of a lady has driven you to a solitude unbecoming an elf."  
  
Elrond trembled furiously, a desperate strain tainting his command. "Release me, I said. Then leave. Immediately."  
  
The marchwarden seemed unaffected. "Why do you isolate yourself, Lord Elf?" He slowly pulled Elrond nearer, until the other elf could feel Haldir's breath wash warm against his skin. "You could have many, you know."  
  
Elrond trembled again, though this time it was for a different reason. "You have done what you came for, Guardian. Now leave me."  
  
Haldir's lips twitched slightly into a bow-like smile. "Again I must correct you. I have not yet done all I came for."  
  
"What?" he breathed, attempting to back away from him. Haldir's hold remained.  
  
"How long has it been?" he asked softly, his accented voice almost a whisper. "How long has your lack of a lady made you cold?" He stepped forward, their bodies nearly touching and leaned closer to whisper into Elrond's ear. "Will you not open your haven to another now?"  
  
The Elf Lord closed his eyes as the breath tickled his sensitive ears. His fingers entangled in the folds of his robes, desperate for something to cling to. That way, he would remain in control. He would not give in. He did not need this. Did not want this.  
  
He shuddered suddenly and bit back a moan as Haldir's lips caressed the pointed tips of his ears. A strangled sound escaped his lips regardless, and he felt the younger elf smile against his skin. He realized suddenly that the other elf had loosed his wrist, but his hand was now holding tightly to the sleeve of the marchwarden's tunic. He couldn't bring himself to let go as the younger elf lavished attention on the sensitive folds of his ear.  
  
"Stop this," he breathed, his breath hitching in his chest as Haldir nipped lightly at the tip.  
  
"You do not sound convincing, my Lord."  
  
Elrond brought his hand up from his side to thread through the fine blonde hair of the Lorien elf. He turned his head slightly to speak into Haldir's ear. "Then you underestimate me, Haldir of Lorien." With a sudden movement, he pulled down hard on his handhold, jerking the elf's head back, and moved his other hand to the center of Haldir's chest, turning himself and at once using his momentum to push Haldir back against the wall. The elf's head hit the stone wall with a dull sound.  
  
For a moment, both were motionless. Elrond pressed firmly against the younger elf, one of his hands still trapped between the guardian's body and the wall. He almost smiled at the surprised look on the elf's face. Instead, he frowned. "Am I naught but a weak lord, Guardian? Was that what you took me for when you came here?" He pulled down again on Haldir's hair, harder, drawing his head back so that he now stared up at the ceiling. "You knew I advised Isildur to cast the One into the Mount. But did you forget that I also fought among Elves and Men in the Last Alliance? I am a warrior as well, Warden. If you were looking for easy prey, you'd best search elsewhere."  
  
"I was not searching for easy prey, my Lord." In one, fluid motion, Haldir hooked his foot behind Elrond's leg and jerked back on it, unbalancing the elder elf and sending him to the floor. But Elrond's hold had not yet relinquished and he drug the marchwarden down with him. Haldir had been expecting such a thing and fell lightly, landing on top of his prey and pinning him to the ground with a strong hand. "I was beginning to wonder, however, how truly easy you would be."  
  
"You should not have." The slender elf dislodged Haldir's handhold with a quick backswipe of his arm and pushed off against the ground, rolling the larger elf off of him. He gripped Haldir's hair more firmly, planting his fistful of the blonde mane against the ground. Haldir winced and lay still. "Do you give?"  
  
"Nay." Haldir's own hand came up to tangle in Elrond's hair and tug on the braids his fingers found. The Elf Lord dropped his head and bit Haldir's ear roughly. The marchwarden cried out and shied away.  
  
"You will give," murmured Elrond, softly pressing his lips against the pained area in apology, turning the other elf's tactics on him.  
  
Haldir let out a soft moan, his one hand holding Elrond's head next to his. "And then must I leave?"  
  
"I have not yet decided what I will do with you." The words sent a shiver through the Lorien elf's body. His eyes fluttered open to stare up at his conqueror. The usually stoic Peredhil was flushed with exertion, his mithril crown slightly askew on his dark locks. His grey eyes were hooded with desire as he nosed Haldir's ear, his breath tickling blonde strands of hair. "You have shown much disrespect, elfling. And you have shown much foolishness in attempting to best me. You are young, Haldir of Lorien, and far too arrogant for your current skills." He left his ministrations to look at the other elf. "Do you now give?"  
  
He shook his head, reaching up to pull Elrond down on top of him and rolling at the same time so that the Lord was once more beneath him. "Nay. I do not."  
  
Elrond struggled beneath Haldir, grappling for supremacy. But his opponent was stronger than him and was now giving no leeway. His thighs pressed against Elrond's preventing most movement, and the blows he struck against the muscled chest seemed to do nothing. Haldir captured his wrists easily and held them stretched out at his sides.  
  
With a smirk, he leaned down over Elrond, their faces mere centimeters apart. The Lord's chest was all but heaving from his effort, but already he was controlling his breathing, inhaling slowly. "I may be young, Lord Elrond, but I think it is you who will give. Not I." His lips brushed against the high-boned cheek, the touch feather-soft. "Do you give?" He pressed a kiss on the corner of his mouth, teasing him. "Do you?" he whispered, hovering over his parted lips.  
  
Elrond's eyes rolled back as Haldir's weight pressed insistently into him. He arched his back against the elf, his nails digging into the floor. "Aye," he whispered.  
  
The marchwarden chuckled softly, the sound reverberating through Elrond's body. "Louder, my Lord, I did not hear you." His lips strayed down, tracing the Elf Lord's pointed chin and graceful neck.  
  
"I said aye," he gasped. "I give!"  
  
He raised his head and smiled slowly. "Good." Then he pressed his mouth to Elrond's, satin meeting satin in a rush of fire. He kissed him languidly, drawing his upper lip into his mouth briefly before releasing him and fluidly rolling to his feet.  
  
For a moment, the self-contained, aloof, stoic Elf Lord could do nothing but lie on the floor, feeling as if every bone in his body had liquefied in the drowning wash of fire that had swept through him moments earlier. With a throaty groan, he straightened, his hand outstretched to brush against the wall for balance.  
  
The chill of the stone seemed to bring him back to reality. He frowned at Haldir, who was now facing away from him. "What do you think you are doing here, Warden?"  
  
Haldir turned, the front of his tunic falling open slightly to reveal a broad, strongly muscled chest. Elrond's eyes instantly went to the flash of pale skin before returning to his face guiltily.  
  
The younger elf smirked and turned back around, shrugging the lightweight material off his shoulders and letting it drop to the floor. "I think you know what I am doing here, my Lord."  
  
In two quick strides, Elrond had crossed the distance between them and gripped Haldir's strong upper arms, his nails digging into the skin almost cruelly. He bent his head to the marchwarden's ear. "I am not so sure that you do."  
  
Haldir had not expected the move. The folds of Elrond's robes were brushing maddeningly against his bare skin and the sharp fingertips digging into his upper arms were making him shiver with ill-suppressed yearning. He attempted to regain the power he had so quickly lost by pressing back against the elf to deepen their contact.   
  
Elrond's grip tightened. "No," he chastised softly, moving back out of reach. Only his hands remained in contact with the elf. "You came to my lands, Haldir of Lorien. Not only that, but you came to my very chambers. You are arrogant indeed. Perhaps you require instruction in the courtesy of the elves," he said, his hands now running lightly up and down his arms, "for you have none." He punctuated this with a scrape of fingernails over flesh.  
  
"My Lord," he murmured softly, tossing his head back. His white-gold hair rose slightly and fell down over Elrond's hands. He threaded his fingers through the silken mane and tugged back on it, tilting Haldir's head backwards and exposing his bare throat.  
  
With the other hand, he brushed away hair from Haldir's neck and dipped his head down to press his mouth hotly against the skin. "You must learn your place, elfling."  
  
He tried to repress the shudder that shot through him at the heated touch and replied loftily. "I am no elfling."  
  
Elrond bit down slightly into the skin as his hands gripped Haldir's sides. "I would not be so certain, were I you. You still have much to learn."  
  
He snorted air out his nose. "And are you the one to enlighten me?"  
  
He stepped forward, pressing firmly against Haldir's back and using his hold to pull the younger elf back against him roughly. "Perhaps," he whispered airily before moving his mouth up to caress the strong jawline with kisses. Slowly sliding his arm around Haldir's waist, he ran a thumb along the flat stomach and pulled back on him again. He smiled against his shoulder. "Now it is your turn to give."  
  
Haldir turned in the embrace to face Elrond, their bodies pressed tight against each other and allowed his forehead to drop down against the Elf Lord's. He nuzzled Elrond's nose lightly with his own and murmured, "I will not."  
  
His hands came up between them and tried to slide beneath Elrond's robes. He shook his head and twined his fingers with Haldir's, holding them away. "Then we are at an impass," he said huskily.  
  
"It appears thus." He moved his leg so that his knee edged between Elrond's legs.   
  
The half-elven smiled softly and backed away, pulling Haldir with him. He walked backwards until he hit the bed and paused. Haldir tried to push him back onto the mattress, but he resisted with a strength uncanny for his slim frame. "Give."  
  
"Nay," he responded, pressing his mouth to Elrond's once again. He attempted to claim his mouth, but Elrond fought back, thrusting his tongue into Haldir's mouth and possessing him completely. He dropped the warden's hands and brought his own hands up to thread into his hair, pulling him deeper in. Once again, Haldir tried to find his way inside the rich robes, only to have the elder break the kiss off abruptly.  
  
"Give," he hissed, tracing a line down the Lorien elf's chest with a thin, burning finger.  
  
"And what will I receive in return, Elrond Peredhil?" he responded. He could still feel the fierce pressure of the Lord's lips on his own, still taste him.  
  
"We shall see."  
  
He divulged himself in another kiss, this one longer and more raw than the first two had been. Their hands moved ceaselessly, touching, caressing, searching, as their tongues danced back and forth. He pressed against Elrond insistently, cupping his angular face in his hands, tilting him back at the intensity of the kiss. He needed him, and there was only one way he would be satisfied. His hands curled slightly in frustration before he sagged against Elrond, all traces of arrogance suddenly gone from his body. "I give to you," he whispered.  
  
The Lord of Imladris wrapped his arms around the elf, bringing him down with him as he lay back on the bed. With one hand he removed his mithril crown and set it aside. With the other, he pushed aside his robes and undid the front of his tunic. Then he took Haldir's hand and lay it across his stomach, shivering at the heated touch. He kissed the elf slowly. "Then I do the same, Haldir o Lorien. I do the same."  
  
The message that was to have been delivered to Elrond lay forgotten in a pale beam of moonlight. But there would be time for that come the morrow. For the first time in a very long time, Elrond was haunted by neither dreams nor memories in the bed that he had once shared with another. Beneath the golden touch of the pale elf who seemed to have stepped straight from a sky-sent moonsteam, Elrond burned darker than the night that consumed them and more brilliantly than the Morningstar.   
  
He was at a lack no longer.  
  
END 


End file.
